


Indigo

by vega_voices



Series: Come Rain, Come Shine [34]
Category: Murphy Brown (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-23
Updated: 2018-08-23
Packaged: 2019-07-01 15:43:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15777105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vega_voices/pseuds/vega_voices
Summary: Their relationship wasn’t an interview. And, standing at the bedroom door, she realized she’d treated all of her past relationships - including Jerry - like one.





	Indigo

**Title:** Indigo  
**Author:** vegawriters  
**Fandom:** Murphy Brown  
**Series:** Come Rain, Come Shine  
**Pairing:** Murphy Brown/Peter Hunt  
**Rating:** Adults only, my friends. This is Peter and Murphy. Even when they aren’t having sex, they’re adults only.  
**Timeframe:** Rumble in the Alley (season 7)  
**A/N:** This episode was so much better than I remember it being. As a teenager, I was horrified by the embarrassment squick. Of course they should know each other better. As an adult, I was transfixed by the idea that no one gets to define when we learn about our partners … except us. And that is so crucial to remember in the course of events with Peter and Murphy. I’ve said all I need to say about that. (Right now.)  
**Disclaimer:** I’ve said it before, I’ll keep saying it: Diane is queen. Murphy is hers, and I am only hanging out and playing and I’m doing it for free. I’m just glad I get to do it. These characters are everything.

 **Summary:** _Their relationship wasn’t an interview. And, standing at the bedroom door, she realized she’d treated all of her past relationships - including Jerry - like one._

Peter watched Murphy disappear upstairs, still shaking off Linda’s teasing from the bowling alley. The tone in her voice as she and Frank had left, “we want to get to know each other better” had reminded him why they’d broken up, actually. She’d never quite approved of how he chose to do things. She’d always been trying to change him. It was the thing he loved most about Murphy. She only ever wanted him to be him. Well, her comment about Stephen King aside. But if he could look past _Octopussy_ , she could forgive him _It_. Linda, for all her smugness, still didn’t know the real reason he’d left seminary school either. She’d been happy to settle for the basic “I can do more good in the world at large” answer.

He could hear her talking to Avery and knew it would be a few minutes, so he pulled off his boots and wandered over to her bookshelves. He’d perused them before, attracted mostly to the historical accounts and the biographies clearly purchased for research. But one book caught his attention, a battered novel he’d never noticed before and given the lack of dust that came off as he picked it up, it felt like it was a recent addition to the shelf.

 _Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe_. He blinked. The paperback was dogearred and, upon flipping through it, marked up with pencil notes and highlighted in multiple sections. But he stopped, his eyes transfixed on Murphy’s scrawled handwriting - What would I do for the people who have done for me? Sinking to the couch, the precious book in his hands, he opened the cover and looked at the first page, imagining her french tipped nails running over the words as she settled in to read for what had to have been hundreds of times. There were photos shoved between the pages - he recognized her in some of them. Standing outside a bombed out house in what looked like Vietnam, her face covered in blood. _Outside Saigon_. The caption read. _1970_. He stared at the photo, traumatized for her, wondering exactly what had happened. Another with her standing between two sailors near a ship, laughing, _With Seaman Davis and Antony. 1970_. Views of cliffs and oceans, no caption. One of a little boy in a tattered shirt, tears on his face. He flipped the photo to see if she’d marked the date. _Outside Bombay. 1979_. It was easy for him to forget how much time she’d spent in the trenches. Her effortless fashion, her ability to float into a room and simultaneously charm and terrify everyone, she was the epitome of DC social life. He’d seen her at work in the field, watched her kneel and talk to kids to get their stories, hung back while she talked to men and women whose distrust of American journalists could be seen from miles away.

He hadn’t needed to ask about her favorite color to know her, but there was so much more left to uncover. How had he waited so long to ask these questions?

Her footsteps on the stairs jolted him back to the present and he closed the book, not sure he should be snooping like this, but she’d seen him. They stared at each other before she walked over, sat down, and took the book out of his hands.

“Day six,” she opened the cover and showed him the inscription. “It was day 6 at Betty Ford and I woke up with a plan. I was going to check myself out, go buy as much booze as I could, drive to the beach, and drink myself to death. Sobriety wasn’t worth it if it meant all of that getting in touch with your feelings crap. I didn’t need intensive therapy to do the news and the longer I went without a drink, the more I wanted to die.” She closed the book and kept her eyes down on the faded cover. “I was trying to work up the guts to do it and I wandered into the library and this book was there. I read it in one sitting. I didn’t go for a cigarette, I didn’t even think about a drink. I’ve read this book at least once a month since I left Betty Ford. I know every word. It comes with me on assignments, collects notes and postcards for me. I still find something in it, every time.”

Peter stared, finding his awe of her renewed. He reached up and cupped his hand under her chin, gently raising her eyes back to his. She looked so scared. “Okay,” he said, “maybe we should have started sharing things like this sooner.”

She chuckled slightly. “I was too busy enjoying you in the here and now. But … if you want to …you know. Talk.”

“Is it so scary? Getting to know this part of each other?” He kept his gaze on hers, lost in her blue eyes. Didn’t she know that was his favorite color - the indigo blue her eyes turned when she was lost in thought? No. How could she? He’d told her it was gray. He’d protected himself in the moment. Because it was scary to get to know her. Because what if it did end? What if he had to leave something of himself behind when she pushed him out the door?

She was quiet for a long time, her eyes fixated on the faded cover of the book. “I was just so sure you were going to leave, Peter. I really did expect us to blow up and blow up hard and I … I’m not good at ... sharing my feelings. When I do, I end up alone.”

“I don’t know,” Peter leaned in for a kiss, which she granted. “I seem to understand you pretty well.”

“You understand getting me naked …”

He recognized the tone in her voice, the one wrought with insecurity and doubt, the one that told him she was expecting him, as everyone did to leave her. Gently, he brushed his thumb across her cheek. “Stop,” he commanded. “Just stop, Murphy. You can trust me.”

“It isn’t something I do easily.”

“I know. But I’m here. Right now. If you don’t trust me by now ...”

The kiss was meant to distract him, and he let her control it, knowing she needed the moment. They weren’t in any rush and honestly, watching her bend over and roll balls all night had been a great excuse to look at her ass and despite wanting to know her darkest secrets, he also wanted to put his hands on her. She left the book on the coffee table and took his hand and led him upstairs, tiptoeing past Avery’s room. He pulled her close, sliding his hands up inside her sweater and tugging it over her head.

“You are so beautiful,” he murmured, his mouth finding her collarbone. “And you get more so every time I see you.”

“Charmer,” she said, her hand tangling in his hair.

They undressed each other gently, reveling at skin as it was revealed, laughing as they tangled in pants and socks. He took his time, kissing and stroking until she hooked one leg over him and guided him inside of her. Still, it was slow, tender to the point of distracting, and when she came, she couldn’t hide the tears in her eyes. He leaned over to kiss her, softly, before losing himself inside of her.

God, he loved her. This woman he barely knew, he loved her.

He rolled, bringing her tightly against his body, and didn’t bother to keep his own tears at bay.

“It’s a lie, you know,” he murmured when they’d both come down.

“What is?”

“That we don’t know each other.”

She lifted her head and her fingers trailed up his chest. There was a slight smile on her face, almost a challenge. “Do tell.”

“I don’t know what happened to you in that photo in Vietnam, a story I expect to learn,” he smiled. “But I know how when you pack for a trip, you always bring a bag of candy for the local kids. After seeing the photo though, I get it now.”

She shook her head. “I always wondered why you carry that rosary in your pocket when you’re in war zones. Seminary school makes sense now.”

They smiled at each other and she adjusted against him, resting her head on her hand, still looking up into his eyes.

“Why is blue your favorite color?” He asked, stroking her hair back off her face.

“The ocean,” she responded, not even needing to think. “It’s the most calming thing …”

That made sense. In the Cayman Islands, it had been the ocean more than once that brought her back into his arms. “I have a confession,” he said.

“Stephen King isn’t your favorite writer?” She sounded too hopeful at that.

“It’s a romantic and sappy one and I don’t want you running from bed.”

She laughed. “Peter, if you haven’t figured it out by now, I don’t know what to tell you. I like it when you’re romantic and sappy.”

“It’s a secret side of you no one knows,” he smiled. “I like that I get to see it.”

“So what’s your confession?”

“Indigo blue,” he said.

“What?” Her eyebrows went up to her hairline.

“My favorite color. See, I’ve never really had one, so I just say gray because there are things I like that are gray - fog, clouds, the steel of an airplane wing.” He grinned and she rolled her eyes. “But then I met you and I couldn’t take my eyes off of yours. The color of your eyes, Murphy, right now. That’s my favorite color.”

She was quiet but he knew better than to push. Finally she pressed a kiss to his chest and let out a shaky breath. “When did this get so serious, Peter?”

“That night in your office, I think. After the Humboldt ceremony.”

“What? Before we even got together?” She tugged the blanket up around her a bit. “How so?”

“You know as well as I do that if I’d touched you like I wanted to, we’d have ripped each other’s clothes off that night.”

“Sex does not make for seriousness,” she countered. He ran his hand up her back. She sighed. “But, in the spirit of not hiding my emotions behind humor … I think you’re right. When you left, I buried my feelings. I just ... the men I choose, Peter. They leave me. So, it was better for me to not choose you.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Murphy.” He gently moved the blanket away, rolling them so he could look at her. His hand moved down her body, sliding between her legs. She opened for him, her eyes never leaving his as he slipped two fingers inside of her, stroking slowly. As she arched against his hand, seeking more contact, he leaned to kiss her, sealing his promise. He wasn’t going anywhere. He’d stay forever if she’d have him. But they weren’t there yet. Because he knew that she never wrote down her first question on her notecards, but he didn’t know why. She knew about seminary school, but he didn’t know why he’d left. And that was okay.

He wasn’t going anywhere. They had a lifetime to learn every little detail.

***

Murphy woke to the smell of bacon. Peter snored lightly next to her and she gently disentangled herself from his arms and went to rinse off before joining Reena and Avery for breakfast. She pulled on a pair of worn jeans and a loose t-shirt that she realized belonged to Peter. It was just cool enough to pull on a baggy sweater, and she tucked herself into one of her favorites. Glancing back at her boyfriend, she let herself lose herself for a minute.

She kind of wanted to hit Frank for putting the fear of breakup into her last night. Mr. Inability to Commit was lecturing her on how much she knew about her boyfriend? No, she hadn’t extolled the virtues of Jerry Gold, but she knew how she took his coffee and when he needed a drink and how a conversation could go just by the look on his face. No, she didn’t know that Stephen King was his favorite author, but she knew he loved to read and that some of her favorite nights were the ones spent in silence, a cup of tea for her, a beer for him, just reading or researching. She didn’t need to know his favorite musician to know how he held her when they danced and it wasn’t like he knew every former boyfriend she’d had, why did it matter that he’d lived with Linda? She knew how he was with Avery, how he treated him like his own son, and how much Avery loved him.

Their relationship wasn’t an interview. And, standing at the bedroom door, she realized she’d treated all of her past relationships - including Jerry - like one. For the past year, she’d been involved with a man who she didn’t need to ask questions of. They could just exist together. It was wonderful. Why the hell were they letting people who weren’t in the relationship dictate anything for them?

Last night, she’d felt like an absolute queen. He always made her feel precious, but he’d made love to her like they were discovering each other all over again and she hadn’t wanted to fall asleep. He was right though - them not knowing things, it wasn’t really their fault. They’d danced around the reality of their relationship for so long, it had become second nature to pretend it wasn’t something tangible. Last night had forced them out of that box. Okay, so Frank and Linda deserved a little bit of credit.

Last night, she’d realized just how in love with him she was.

He stirred and she stepped back, but his eyes opened and he reached out for her. She walked over and linked their fingers. “Reena’s making breakfast,” she murmured. “Come on. Get something to eat.”

“Do I gotta?” He grinned, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand.

“No. But I’m going downstairs,” she teased. “There’s coffee and bacon.”

“I really like Reena,” he laughed.

She did too. Murphy kissed him and headed downstairs, feeling lighter than she had in awhile. Avery was at the table, chewing his way through a piece of bacon and half a bagel. Reena handed over coffee.

“Thank you,” she smiled at her nanny/housekeeper/angel before dropping a kiss to Avery’s hair. “Hey, buddy. Can I have some of your bacon.”

“Mine!” He cried, grinning.

“Just like his mother,” Reena laughed. “There are eggs and bacon on the stove for you and Peter when you’re ready.”

“Thank you,” she said again.

“Peter’s here?!” Avery jumped up, standing on his chair. “All day?!”

Murphy laughed. “I think that was the plan. He’s still asleep though.”

Avery giggled. “I bet he doesn’t have pjs on. He always forgets them. You too, Mommy.”

Murphy blushed. Reena laughed outloud. “Out of the mouths of babes,” Reena teased.

“Well, sometimes, yes,” Murphy sputtered. Great. Now this was a thing? She reached for her son’s bacon, which resulted in an ear piercing “NO!” and a change in subject. But Reena was still smirking.

“Kid is pretty observant,” she chuckled over her coffee.

“Don’t make me fire you,” Murphy shot back. But under her blush, she was laughing.

“Do you mind if I take today, Murphy?” Reena asked. “With you and Peter both here …”

“Go!” She waved at her nanny. “Go on! Please.” She refilled Avery’s milk.

“Go!” Avery mimicked her. Both women laughed.

“I’ll see you tonight then,” Reena said with a smile. She kissed Avery’s hair and headed to gather her things. Murphy puttered, rinsing off dishes and finally sitting down to eat. Peter would join them when he was ready.

“So what do you want to do today?” She asked her son, who, in this light, looked surprisingly like Peter.

“Um … I wanna go to the movies and I wanna play at the park and I wanna read.”

“I think we can do all of that,” Peter said as he came into the kitchen. Murphy looked up and met his eyes and he winked at her. Her heart and stomach flopped over simultaneously. Yeah, she had it bad. From the lingering look Peter gave her as he poured his coffee, it was clear he shared the feeling.

Avery, however, wasn’t going to let the moment fly by. He was already out of his chair, hanging on Peter’s legs. “Can we go play legos?”

Mother instinct almost pulled Avery back, but Peter just took his plate from the stove and sat down and let Avery climb into his lap. “As soon as I eat, we can do whatever you want. I’m here all day and I want to spend as much time as I can with you and your mom.”

Breakfast became legos became reading became lunch and by the time Avery was ready for a nap, so was she. Peter took Dad Duty and put him down, Murphy just lingered at the edges of the nursery, watching. She knew all she needed to know about him just by watching him with her son.

His eyes met hers as Avery snuggled in for his nap, but anything Murphy had planned to say was quashed by Peter’s arms around her. He moved them back to the bedroom and they crawled between the sheets, losing themselves in each other once again. As he moved inside of her, one leg up over his shoulder, the other bracing herself on the bed, her nails digging into his shoulders, she could feel the words on her lips. The terrifying ones she couldn't believe she was ready to say, the ones that moments like this and moments on the phone and long lingering letters about how much she missed him brought out in her. Words she almost never said to anyone because she was sure no one would say it back.

For the first time in her life, she was sure that if she said it, someone might.

Afternoon quickies meant getting dressed again before Avery could come find them - more than once he’d walked in at just the wrong moment - and with her jeans back on and one of Peter’s t-shirts keeping her comfortable, she stretched back out next to him on the bed.

“I love you.” The words froze in the air. She looked at him, and he looked back. After last night, was this admission too soon? Was he going to run screaming?

“I love you too,” he murmured, gathering her back in his arms. “You and Avery both.”

The kiss was what she’d hoped it would be. Lingering and tender, without wandering hands but still holding each other close, keeping the world at bay. After over a year of flirting, taunting, teasing, and making love only the poets wrote home about, she could admit it. Maybe it was finding out his favorite color that had done her in. But the truth was, she was in love with Peter Hunt. And damn, it felt good. The kiss didn’t build, didn’t rush, they just kissed, hands wandering gently, sliding around hips and up inside shirts, but without purpose other than to caress.

It ended organically, with her curled up against him, his fingers stroking through her hair.

“That was pretty scary to admit,” she murmured. “Especially after last night.”

“Yeah, me too,” he chuckled.

“You know, for two people who are pretty lousy at this relationship thing, we’re doing okay so far.”

“I know last night I said we shouldn’t blame ourselves because we expected everything to crash and burn, but I really think the secret for us is taking the pressure off.” He tilted his head back and grinned, “But hey, we haven’t survived our first Humboldt dinner together as a couple.”

Murphy found herself searching. She’d said the three scary words and he’d said them back and the world hadn’t ended but was it supposed to change? He hadn’t pulled away and she hadn’t burst into flames.

“Let’s go out tonight,” Peter suggested. “Pizza and a movie. Avery wanted a movie, let’s do it. Family date night.” She raised her eyebrow at the comment. He blushed. “Yeah, yeah. I know I said it.”

“World didn’t explode.”

“No,” he squeezed her and sat up. “It didn’t.”

She climbed off the bed and made her way to the nursery to check on Avery, who was starting to stir. By the time she made it downstairs with him, Peter was skimming through the paper for movie times. She walked past, brushed his back with her fingers, and moved into the kitchen to get Avery a snack.

The world hadn’t exploded.

While Avery chewed his way through carrot sticks, she flipped through the mail, knowing she’d ignore most of it. A postcard caught her attention though. _Love from Cuba_. Jake to Avery She glanced at it, knowing it would say things similar to every other one he’d sent, and set it aside to file. She’d made this commitment to her son that he’d know Jake through whatever medium he chose. But, the truth was his real father was on the couch, discussing which showing of _101 Dalmations_ to go to.

Peter loved them.

She loved him. And she was pretty sure Avery was on board.

So this was what it felt like. Things didn’t have to change. Bands didn’t play, suns didn’t explode. It was an admission, it was honesty, and life moved on while they kept getting to know each other.


End file.
